


A Good Idea at The Time

by ThymeTraveler



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Fem!Ori - Freeform, Female Bilbo, Female Ori, Gen, Nori is a Little Shit, fem!Bilbo, heights, shape-shifters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:03:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThymeTraveler/pseuds/ThymeTraveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different story each chapter, mostly one-shots and samples of other stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jump

**Author's Note:**

> There had to be a better way across, but she could not see one at this juncture.

“No.”

“Come on, Bilbo.” Nori tried to tempt her

“Not happening.” She didn’t even look at him.

“We really need to get moving.” Fili’s voice was tense, strained.

“There is no way you are getting me over that thing.”

“I thought you said she was braver than she looked.” Nori’s drawl echoed through the massive chamber.

“Now see here-!” She couldn’t help but bristle at that.

“She’s just a halfling after all.”

“That is uncalled for!” Now they’d done it, now she had to prove them wrong. They’d never believe this back home

“Hey, leave her alone! Jumping crevasses was never in the contract!” She appreciated Kili’s defense, but now her hackles were up.

“Honestly, we don’t even know this is going to work, why are we sending her across first?” Ori was desperately trying to calm the situation. Separated from the rest of the company, lost in the bloody mountains and needing to get across a massive bloody underground hole before the blasted goblins caught them. Again. Bilbo took a deep steadying breath.

“There has to be another way, she doesn’t need to do this.” Fili held onto his temper, but she could see it fraying rapidly. _Ah Elbereth Gilthoniel_ , she hoped this worked.

The dwarves were working themselves into a lather, and they were running out of time. Judging the build-up, the jump, and the distance? She really hoped this would work.

She backed up. Out of the corner of her eye, Kili twitched, turned to her. “Bilbo, wait!”

She gritted her teeth and charged. Now, or never.

Dimly she heard voices yelling her name, and she gave an almighty heave at the last.

Bilbo Baggins, lately of Bag End and the Shire, fairly flew through the air over the deep. Stretching and straining, stomach swooping, focused on her goal.

 _Please, let this work_.

She hit the edge of the other side, caught her knee on the rock.

For a long, terrible moment, she thought all was lost, that she was lost, and she would never see Fili smile again.

She scrambled, fingers scrabbling at the sharp edge and pulled with all her might.

Suddenly, she was up, up and steady. Gasping for breath, muscles trembling with adrenaline, she looked back and felt dizzy again at the sheer distance she had jumped.

“BILBO!” At last, the screaming registered. Her eyes snapped up and she was caught.

Caught in the bright blue of Fili’s eyes.


	2. Moon and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many secrets can one dwarrow handle?

“Thank you, Ori. For coming with me this far.” Bellora’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. Ori could hardly bear it, and hugged the hobbit fiercely.

“Of course. Of course, how could I not? You’ve become so dear to me, like a sister. I could never leave you to do…this all by yourself.” Her own eyes were damp, here at the end of the road, one final obstacle in front of them. There was always going to be a dragon in the end.

Bellora clutched desperately back, hiding her face in the crook of Ori’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.” They stood together in the silence of the secret passage, the entrance to the treasure room before them. Ori could not go any further, or her scent would alert Smaug.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Bellora stood back. “There’s only one thing left for me to do.”

“And what’s that…” Ori trailed off as Bellora’s eyes changed color, from the rich, warm chocolate brown to an unearthly, pale blue. Her teeth sharpened to points, all of them, and a wry grin settled on her altered face. Ori could see the complete effect of the changes now, elongated features with pronounced edges, sharper than any hobbit or being should be.

“ _Sorry, little scribe. We have a job to do and we can’t have you alerting the other dwarves. Master Thorin will not be pleased if he learns of our plans before we can commit them.”_

Ori felt faint, this could not be happening. “No, oh please. Please, Ithildin, no. Don’t do this, there has to be a better way, please. We don’t know what could happen!”

The specter inhabiting Bellora’s face sighed almost mournfully. “ _It must be done.”_ Before Ori could speak anymore, fast as a serpent, Bellora’s hand whipped out. A single word, and Ori crumpled, losing consciousness almost before she noticed the darkness swirling around her. Deftly catching the dwarrowdam, Ithildin gently guided Ori’s body to the tunnel floor. Propping her against the wall, Ithildin stood and considered for a moment.

“ _Bellora, you must listen now. You must be the one to walk into the danger. I cannot do it for you.”_

“Will it hurt?”

“ _I…I do not know, sweet one. I have not taken my original form for more than an age. I may not be able to prevent all pain, as much as it grieves me to admit it.”_

“…Thank you for being honest.”

“ _I always try for you, little gem.”_

Body shifting once more, Bellora stood again as a hobbit. She paused a moment more, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. This was like nothing she had ever done before, and not even Ithildin’s reassuring presence in the back of her mind could soothe her fear. But do it, she must. The others were depending on her, and that gave her courage.

The tunnel remained dark, strangely warm. The heat of the dragon hoard grew more intense as she drew near, and Ithildin’s calm repose in the back of her mind began to dissolve. The temptation of the massive hoard was not one to be trifled with.

One last staircase, another doorway, and there it was. A veritable mountain of treasure, within the Lonely Mountain. She had to stop for a moment, to simply stare in bewilderment. “How on earth…”

_“Hush, gemling. Smaug still lives. I can smell him.”_

A lump of ice settled in Bellora’s stomach. She pressed on, gingerly traversing the treasure mound.

 

Ori jerked awake from the darkness of an enchanted sleep, alone in the corridor. Gulping in air, only one thing registered.

Bellora.

Shoving herself to her feet, Ori regained her balance…only to lose it when the whole mountain shook and roared. Clutching her head, Ori screamed in terror. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening!

In a daze, Ori stumbled back up the corridor, running back to the Company, the Lonely Mountain continuing to shake under the force of Smaug’s fury. Ori had to keep dodging falling debris, turning the corridor into an obstacle course of rock and death. What had Bellora done?

She could hear the mountain groaning, stone grinding and cracking. Feel the vibrations deep in her bones, pushing her panic deeper and deeper into her gut.

Dashing back into the sunlight at last nearly blinded her, and she could barely hear the shouting of the Company. Tripping at the last, she fell to the ground. Or she would have, if a pair of warm, familiar arms had not caught her.

“Ori! Ori? What’s wrong? Where’s Bellora?” Fili’s clear blue eyes swept the area, as though expecting the hobbit to appear out of thin air. She’d done it before.

“She-Oh, Mahal-the dragon-”

“What?!” Thorin stood beside them, eyes wild and fierce. “What do you mean the dragon!?”

Ori could feel the panic choking her. “Ithildin…”

But before any explanation could pass her lips, Bofur hissed at them. “I think the shaking’s stopped.”

It had. The mountain had gone silent, no more sound echoed up from the looming secret passage. Ori felt Fili’s hands tighten around her, and the King stood frozen, staring at the doorway. It seemed the whole world was holding a breath.

Then a shout, far louder than it had any right to be, rang up from the valley of the River Running. “Smaug! You putrid, cowering worm! Come out and face one who has stolen from under your nose!”

Thorin swore, long and low.


	3. Last Will and Testament

This, as follows, stands as the Last Will and Testament of Bellora Baggins of the Shire and Rivendell. I am of sound mind, and do I really need to do this, Gandalf?

            Fine, fine, old grumpy-guts. Just remember, I would rather not have to verify my own sanity, seeing as I lost it long ago due to your meddling.

            All right, well, if you’re hearing or reading this, then I have failed in my mission and am most likely very dead. Hopefully very dead, because I would rather not live in the hands of the enemy. I’m hoping no one ever has to hear this so I might as well unload.

            I have very little personal possessions anymore, after the Shire burned. My books, my armchair, my linens, my home: most of it was lost. As was a large portion of my surviving family. My parents are gone, and most of my cousins scattered to their respective family holdings for their own protection.

What little remains are my own personal journals and the contents of my Rivendell apartment. The Elves know what to do with my journals, which should remain in the Rivendell Archives for posterity. There are a few volumes which will be sent to specified persons. I want most of it to go to my remaining family – the Tooks since the downfall of the Baggins line, to the company of dwarves whom I escorted to the Lonely Mountain, and to my only son, Frodo.

            Yes, my son. I know, I know. When in the seven hells did I have time to become a mother. The truth is… I didn’t. I never planned on having children, but life intervened. I fell in lust, and then in love. And had my heart broken and my person banished for it. Came away from the whole thing with a couple of souvenirs, not the least of which was my son.

            He’s your son, Thorin. He couldn’t have been anyone else’s. He’s got your eyes, your hair. There were days, when he was very small, that it hurt to look at him. But I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

            It nearly killed me, giving him away. But I had to. My life was no place for a child, and I had to work steadily or I would begin to remember the betrayal and the hurt. I gave him to my cousins, Primula and Drogo. They had just lost their own little one, and I hoped that he would help them heal. For ten years, the situation worked beautifully. I visited when I could, and became Auntie Bilbo. Poor lad couldn’t pronounce my name. I loved him so much, dearly but distantly so as to keep him safe. How wrong I was. I thought I could keep him safe, but I must have doomed half the Shire.

            There was a coded message sent to Rivendell – the Shire had been targeted. I arrived to see Bag End engulfed in flame and my parent’s broken bodies on the stoop. The entirety of the Shire was in a panic, and more fires were being set by the hour. In a daze, I fled to Michel Delving, where Drogo and Primula had been transplanted after adopting Frodo. I couldn’t… They made me take Frodo, they told me to run, that they would buy time for us to escape. I saw… Black riders, tall as men, hooded, and terrifying. I don’t know what they did but Drogo’s screams will haunt me into the afterlife. Primula never made a sound, as I ran from the backdoor. I only looked back once, and the roof was on fire. I have no firm idea of how I made it through that night, I only know that I woke up in the warren of Tookborough with Frodo tucked up beside me and my Grandfather telling me that there had been orcs in the Shire and Gandalf had shown up with reinforcements before dawn. The enemy had been routed out, but many hobbits had died. It was best that I left the Shire. I have not been back since.

            Before you ask, I had no idea why they were hunting me, but they were. Rivendell was now the only option. Frodo needed to know who he was, and how to stay alive. Lord Elrond was very kind, far kinder than he needed to be. I was grieving yet again and now I had my son to raise.

            Elrond took us under his wing, gave me a small apartment in the refuge of Rivendell. Frodo, now almost eleven, began lessons at the knee of Elrond and his scholars. He’d always been bright, almost too bright, by hobbit standards. He told me once that he’d suspected that I was his sister. An older sibling unable to take care of her younger sibling when our real parents died. Close enough to the truth, and so I told him. He didn’t speak to me for nearly two weeks. Most of the time he seemed merely to not know what to say. How could I give him up?

            I finally sat him down, gave him most of the story. Told him there were things I wasn’t ready to tell him yet. But he should never doubt how much I loved him. He was my son, and nothing was going to change that. Things weren’t perfect, but they didn’t need to be.

            We had each other, and nothing was going to change that. I took easier assignments, tried to stay close to Rivendell. Frodo flourished. Rivendell was so wonderful for his mind. Elrond and his librarian Erestor were constantly trying to keep up with his voracious appetite for learning. The attack on the Shire faded from view but not from memory, the black riders have not resurfaced as of yet.

            We weren’t forgotten by the Shire, though. Some came to visit. I still had rights there, just no official title. Some of my more adventurous cousins and their children would visit. Frodo made some excellent friends. Brandybucks, Tooks, Gamgees: the best Hobbits in a pinch.

            He’s just passed his majority. Hope I can see more of those kinds of birthdays. This mission… Hell, it’s not a walk in the park. I don’t want to leave him alone.

            I’ve left him a letter. Just in case. If I have failed, he’ll find it in my old bureau. In the den at the Rivendell apartment. It contains some last words for him and the deed and properties I still own in the Shire. It’s the last of it.

            Frodo, if you’re seeing this… Goddess, I am so sorry. I never wanted to leave you alone. Ever. You are my greatest treasure and I love you so much. I'm so proud of you, my darling boy. Please take care of yourself and follow your own path. I have faith you’ll find the right one for yourself.

            Damn these tears, I am a grown woman!

            Right.

            To the Rivendell Foundation, there are some documents in my office that should not be left to molder. Arwen knows the ones.

            To the Hobbiton contingent, you’ll find my will in the safe-deposit box at the First Dwarven Bank on the Boulevard in Rivendell. Under my name and account number. Frodo has the combination.

            To the Company… I regret. So much do I regret. I regret never coming back. I just…was so scared that I had truly done the worst thing possible and betrayed you all so completely. I thought there was no going back. I saw Nori and Bofur and Balin and Ori, but I never said hello. I never said a word. All professional, that’s me. A big fat coward, more like.

           There isn’t much else I can say. I miss you all. Those months traveling and changing the world were some of the best of my life. My journals are yours to access, I had copies made… somewhere.

            Thorin… Fili and Kili… I just… I’m so sorry. Please, find Frodo. He’s such a bright lad. Show him your world, I don’t want him to lose out on half his heritage. I don’t know what else to say. I miss you. I love you. I still do. Despite all that happened, despite my better judgement. You all are precious to me.

            Be careful. Things are moving. The world is changing and I’m not sure how it’s going to land. Be on watch.


End file.
